


Can't or Won't ?

by RedSnow1



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Awesome Clara Oswin Oswald, Banter, Bargaining, Cute, Dancing, F/M, Favors, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Fun, Funny, Heartwarming, Humor, Idiots in Love, Short & Sweet, Soft Twelfth Doctor, Sulking, Sweet, True Love, Twelfth Doctor Era, for love, insufferable Clara Oswald, shy twelfth doctor, twelfth doctor in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-29
Updated: 2020-11-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:48:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27775612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedSnow1/pseuds/RedSnow1
Summary: “Oh, come on, Doctor. I’m not asking you for a sacrifice here — Just to indulge a little fantasy of mine.”“Fantasies should remain where they belong, Clara : in your head. I can’t prevent you from thinking…” Sometimes he wishes he could. “But I won’t do it. That is final.”/OS/Whouffle Week Day 7, Dancing.
Relationships: Twelfth Doctor/Clara Oswin Oswald
Comments: 17
Kudos: 39
Collections: Whouffle Week 2020





	Can't or Won't ?

**Author's Note:**

> Hello old friends,
> 
> And he were are. The last story. I hope you enjoyed this ride with me, I certainly did. It was wild, fun, and challenging and I loved every second of it!
> 
> No angst for the last day, just a little idea I had that made me laugh. Hopefully, it will surprise you in a good way!
> 
> Huge thank you to my beta, @Praetyger for your precious help and advice. Without you, this story wouldn't have been the same.  
> And as always, thank you my dear friend @Persephonia1 for your never ending support, and your care. Love you !
> 
> And finally, thanks to all my friends in the diner, you rock <3
> 
> Feel free to leave a comment, leave a kudo, it's always appreciated!  
> Happy reading!

Clara has been silent for a while now, observing him from one of the chairs on the upper deck. And he knows that is usually not a good sign. Her silence either means that she is cross with him or fomenting yet another crazy plan. He doesn’t recall doing anything to incur her wrath… But  the little grin at the corner of her rosy lips is the same as the one she gets right before she attacks him with one of her hugs. Yes, The Doctor knows it is something devious . The Doctor doesn’t say anything, and keeps his hands busy. If he doesn’t pay much attention to her, maybe then, he could delay the inevitable. He starts unplugging mechanisms from the TARDIS, things that need to be replaced, and she watches him playfully, her smile growing wider every seconds. A predator staring at its prey. Oh no — He needed to get away before she corners him, but as soon as he formulates this thought, she rises, and descends the steps, ever so slowly. She is still wearing her dress from the ball they attended earlier on. It’s too late. There is no escape. 

He pretends he doesn’t notice her approaching.

“Doctor ?” Clara said, with a sultry, sweet tone.

He gulps awkwardly. He doesn’t need to look at her to know that she stands near the console, her entire body bent over it, her chin resting on her hands. She is quite a sight for sore eyes, but that is not something he can ever let her know.

He sighs. He knows exactly what she is about to ask him. The same thing she has been requesting for the past few weeks.

“No.” He shoots back, immediately.

She throws her arms around in annoyance, huffing soundly. Her heels snap on the floor — she looks like a little child throwing a tantrum. A very little one. It’s sweet, and a little terrifying. It confuses him somehow. How can she do both? People aren’t supposed to. But she is Clara Oswald, the Impossible Girl, the only mystery worth solving : she deserves that title more than anyone.

“You don’t even know what I was going to say.”

He snorts, and rolls his eyes. The Doctor bites his lip, and reaches for his screwdriver inside his pocket. He waves it around the circuits, trying to find the source of the problem. The readings are quite normal. Maybe there is nothing wrong after all. Nevertheless, he pretends that he is incredibly busy in hopes that Clara will stop bugging him. Wishful thinking really. She will not be fooled by his vain attempt at stopping the conversation. But then again, maybe he doesn’t really want to. Maybe he likes banter after all. But more importantly, he loves her. He really does. He loves having her around more often, sharing his home with her. All the little moments they share, every conversation they have means the world to him. And even though she is amazingly good at pushing his buttons and testing his patience, he wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Clara, I know exactly what you were going to say. You’ve been asking me for weeks. My answer still stands : No.”

He articulates the last word for emphasis, and yet he knows it won’t nearly be good enough.

“Oh, come on, Doctor. I’m not asking you for a sacrifice here — Just to indulge a little fantasy of mine.”

Fantasy? He thought that was quite a strong word. How long has she been thinking about this? No, never-mind, he doesn’t want to know. What else was she thinking about, though? Did he want to know? He wasn’t sure. Part of him was curious, the other scared of what she might find.  _ The mind of Clara Oswald _ , he thinks.  _ There is nothing quite as peculiar and surprising.  _

“Fantasies should remain where they belong, Clara : in your head. I can’t prevent you from thinking…” Sometimes he wishes he could. “But I won’t do it. That is final.”

He returns to his task. She remains silent for a while, absentmindedly playing with a couple of buttons on the console. He can hear thoughts racking in her brain, trying to engineer a way to make him cave. He won’t. He is the Doctor, the Oncoming Storm, the last of his kind. If he can fight off the Daleks, the Cyberman then he can damn well stand his ground in front of a schoolteacher. No begging, no whining will make him change his mind.

_ Old fool. Do you even believe in what you are saying? _

“Doctor… Please?” Her voice is soft, pleading.

He makes the mistake of looking at her. And Clara was pouting, her big brown eyes shining with hope. Her orbs looking bigger, wider, ready to swallow him whole, draw him into the darkness of her irises — hypnotic, unescapable. How was she doing it anyway?

“Stop doing that with your eyes !” He said, pointing his finger at her.

She chuckles, head thrown back, her entire face offered to his eyes. And she is beautiful. Utterly, irrevocably beautiful. And yet, he has seen the universe, the birth of the stars. He has seen all the beauty the cosmos has to offer and nothing compares to Clara Oswald laughing.

His hearts flutter at the thought, a blush creeping on his cheeks.

He rises abruptly, trying to clear his head, and she tails him, matching his pace and movement. He turns around abruptly, and she almost bumps into him. Now that he is facing her, Clara presses her hands on his shoulder, touching him where she knew his weak spot lay. He closes his eyes and braces himself.

“Please, please, please, Doctor… I would do anything.”

He looks her in the eyes, oh those gorgeous eyes. Her skin is warm against his, her fingers grazing at his shirt in an attempt to soothe him. And it’s so very nearly working… He feels a pull towards her — a spell only she can cast on him. She is standing in his personal space, eyes bearing into his and he wants nothing more than to stay that way.

“Anything?” He repeats in a faint whisper.

She nods and smiles. Sometimes, it amazes him how easily she can get herself into trouble and not even realize it. He could ask for anything — the moon, immortality, something that doesn’t belong to this world. He could ask for his heart’s desire and nearly does.

But he can’t. He takes her hands into his, and breaks free from her grasp. The Doctor looks the other way, the spell is broken.

“Fine. Then stop asking me.” She huffs at that. Her mouth opens, ready to retaliate, but she doesn’t have time. “Isn’t it time for bed? You must be tired.”

  
  


“I’m not tired. Stop trying to change the subject.”

He rolls his eyes. The rings under her eyes say otherwise, but he knows that Clara Oswald is not one to listen to advice. Not when she had something else in mind. Oh, that stubborn— stubborn woman. She will drive him mad someday, maybe she already is. Maybe she is his madness. Sometimes, he can’t really tell. 

“Clara — My Clara I would do anything for you. You know that.” And he means it. Her features soften upon hearing those words. She knows. She knows he would go to hell if she asked. “But what you are asking me is beyond my capacity. I simply can’t.”

Her eyes are staring at him suspiciously, and he can read a silent question in them.

_ Can’t, or won’t? _

_ Both _ , he answers in his head.

“Yes, you can. You’ve done it before. I’ve seen it.”

He winces. Of course, she would remember that, of all the things.  _ Foolish Doctor. _ He curses his previous form under his breath, damning him for being so childish. It’s his fault he is into this mess now — him and his ego, his desperate need to impress his Impossible Girl. Now he is paying the price.

He doesn’t reply, and tries to focus back on the TARDIS. He makes a vow of silence — hopefully, at some point she will get tired. But Clara doesn’t give up. She wouldn’t be herself if she did. Instead, she comes close to him, breathing down his neck. 

For a few minutes, she amuses herself by constantly repeating  _ please _ with doe-eyes and pouty lips, hoping that if she annoys him enough, he’ll finally do what she so desperately wants. 

He holds on. For his own sake, he holds on — which clearly displeases her. 

Then, Clara starts to sulk, her arms crossed over her chest, pretending to be cross with him so he pays attention. Clever girl. She knows which buttons to press.

He stays strong. 

She changes her strategy. Enumerates everything she has ever done for him, complaining that she never asked for anything in return. Nothing, except for this.

She is right. Of course she is right.

“Doctooooooor — I am begging you here.” She whines, one last time.

Something snaps inside of him. He can’t do this anymore. He eyes his wrist watch : five minutes. Clara Oswald has made him surrender in five minutes. She has managed to win over his patience — quite a success really. But he can’t do this any more. He is tired of her restless whining and he knows that she will not give up so easily. If he doesn’t do it now, she would keep asking him tomorrow, the day after, until she gets what she wants. She is Clara Oswald. She is capable of haunting him beyond the grave. The Doctor sighs loudly, and drops his tool on the ground. Startled, she stares at him, her eyebrows raised.

“Fine. I’ll do it if it stops your whining.”

Clara Oswald is wearing her most smug smile, knowing she has won. Of course she has. How can he resist her?

The Doctor sighs loudly, the silence is overwhelming. The TARDIS seems to be holding its breath, waiting for him to make a fool of himself. He can feel the way the ship observes him — he will have to remember to have a little chat with her afterwards. Clara is staring at him, practically jumping in happiness. It’s too late to back down now. He has to do it.

He takes a deep breath and clears his throat. It’s just a few seconds. Just a few seconds and it will be over. He takes his sweet little time. She has been waiting for weeks, surely, she can handle a few more seconds. His lips are pursed, he is already disgusted with himself.

And then he does it. He closes his eyes so he doesn’t get to see.

He throws his hands up in the air, and he does it. 

The drunk giraffe. 

The one move he has promised himself he would never, ever do again. His previous incarnation was fond of it : he on the other hand, was way too old for that kind of foolishness. Besides, he feels his spine crack because of the brisk movement. Time Lord superior biology or not, he knows that one will sting in the morning. 

But Clara’s laughter makes it all worthwhile though — something he can never tell her. It echoes in the console room, like a shrill piercing sound that makes his heart tremble.

“There ? Happy?” He whispers, touching his back to try and find the source of the pain.

“Thank you.” She says, her smile radiating more light than two suns. “See, it didn’t kill you.”

“It killed my dignity.”

She nudges him playfully, unable to repress her grin. And he smiles too. It wasn’t so bad after all. Of course, he will never do it again, but it was less horrible than he thought it would be.

He notices Clara, tiptoeing around the TARDIS, looking way too pleased with herself, and his lips form a wicked smile.  _ Sweet little revenge _ , he thinks.  _ Oh, Clara Oswald, you have no idea what awaits you. _

“So — About that favor you owe me…”

And he watches with amusement the worried line drawing itself on her forehead.

Oh, he is so going to make her pay for this.

  
  



End file.
